


A Certain Slant of Light

by accordingtomel



Category: Drew Carey's Improv-A-Ganza RPF, Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Falling In Love, First Time, Flirting, Getting Together, Guilt, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 10:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10762812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accordingtomel/pseuds/accordingtomel
Summary: This was based on the prompt: Chip/Jeff; Chip doesn't remember most of the things that happen on stage, but Jeff's touches always seem to linger long after the lights have dimmed and the curtain has gone down.





	A Certain Slant of Light

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my LJ in September of 2011. Just FYI, the "break-up" tag here is not in reference to Jeff and Chip.
> 
>  **Original A/N:** So, I had a lot of trouble with this initially, but thankfully it finally came together in the end, and I’m relatively pleased with the final result. Thanks as always to the amazing adelagia for betaing this monster for me, as well as to awakencordy for the additional beta. You gals are the best. Also, prompter, I hope you don’t mind, but I loved the prompt so much that I actually used it as the first line in the fic! Also, the title was borrowed from a song by The Tea Party.

Chip doesn't remember most of the things that happen on stage, but Jeff's touches always seem to linger long after the lights have dimmed and the curtain has gone down. It is both addicting and dangerous in equal measure, mixing guilt with pleasure, and he knows it has to stop, it _needs_ to stop. He just doesn’t know how. Or if he truly wants it to.

~*~

Bright lights flood the stage, the audience but a murmur in the midst of the game, both encouraging and directing the scene playing out before their very eyes. Chip stands in the middle of the stage, one half of the improvisers in this game, his partner in crime, Jeff, nearly glued to his side. They’ve strayed so far from the original prompt in under three minutes that Chip can barely even remember what they were supposed to be doing in the first place. All he can say with absolute certainty is that Jeff is touching him in a way that’s wrenched his concentration away from the scene almost entirely.

Fingers trail down the back of Chip’s head, nails grazing the hair at the nape of his neck before slipping just below the collar of his shirt, the touch feathery light and all too intimate under the hot glare of the stage lights. But Jeff either doesn’t care, or simply can’t be bothered to notice the reaction his touch is eliciting, as his hand slides from neck to shoulder, fingers squeezing gently. Something warm coils in Chip’s stomach, and his breath hitches involuntarily in his throat.

Jeff, for his part, seems completely unaffected as he pulls away, smiling over at Chip, silky and warm. But there is a distinct gleam in his eyes as he tugs at Chip’s wrist, dragging him across the stage with a grand flourish.

“Come with me, Jose. We haven’t any time left to waste.”

Sometimes Chip wonders if Jeff realizes the effect he has on him, if he’s doing all of this on purpose with the sole intent of torturing him, or if he really has no idea.

~*~

The room is dark, illuminated only by the stars in the sky and the dim light cast from the streetlamps, night having fallen hours before. Chip sits alone in an armchair, staring out into the street, silent now, his legs pulled up to his chest, and arms curled around his knees. He hasn’t sat like this in years, yet there’s always been something comforting about being in this position. It used to make him feel smaller, safer, like somehow he was protecting himself from some unknown threat. Except it isn’t working any longer, his childhood days long gone now. The threat is all too clear, and Chip knows that he can’t protect himself from his own traitorous desires.

This is starting to get out of hand. He’s permitted himself to feel these things for far too long now, but he doesn’t have the first clue of how to get rid of them without cutting the source of everything out of his life entirely. But he can no more do that than cut off his own arms or legs. It’s telling, that in and of itself. Maybe too telling, Chip thinks vaguely. This is his marriage, ‘til death do them part, but he cannot even fathom the idea of breaking a decade-long friendship, especially when Jeff hasn’t done anything wrong. Not knowingly, anyway.

A heavy sigh slips past his lips, eyes drawn to the gentle sway of the branches on a tree at the edge of his front lawn, and Chip wishes he knew what to do. When did everything get so complicated? 

The creak of a floorboard snaps him out of his reverie, and Chip jerks his head around to see Patty standing on the opposite side of the room, wrapped up in a pink housecoat with arms folded casually across her chest.

“What are you still doing up?” she asks softly, taking a few steps closer.

“I, uh—“ He fumbles for the right words, not sure what he could possibly even say to her. _I’ve been thinking about Jeff and how I might’ve, somehow, fallen for him_ ; or _I’ve been thinking about what it might be like to be with another man_ ; perhaps even _Is it possible to have a sexual identity crisis in your 40s, because I think I might be having one right now._ The whole thing just makes him sick with guilt.

Patty’s lips pull into a frown. “What’s wrong?”

Chip blinks. “What makes you think there’s something wrong?” The falsity of the words hit him the minute they’re out of his mouth. He’s sitting in the living room, staring out the window in the dark, in the middle of the night. Of _course_ there’s something wrong, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.

Patty bites her lip, taking another couple of steps forward. She uncrosses her arms in favour of wrapping them across her stomach instead. “It’s just... you’ve been sort of distant lately, and now I find you downstairs sitting by yourself in the dark. I’m just worried about you. Are you all right?”

There is a part of him that so desperately wants to confess the whole thing, to spill his guts and beg for forgiveness, convince her that it’s just a phase that he’ll be able to move on from soon. But the reality is that this “phase” has been carrying on for more than a year, and if he was truly going to get over it, it would’ve happened by now. The simple truth is that he _has_ been distant, he _has_ been distracted, and he just doesn’t know what to do about any of it.

These desires have only been increasing in both frequency and intensity over the past year, with little signs of it dissipating. It’s only a matter of time until Chip has to make a decision about what to do – stay with his wife and try to ignore these feelings he has for Jeff, or acknowledge that he’s genuinely questioning his own sexuality. Neither option is particularly appealing; both will lead to a world of pain for everyone involved, but the reality is that Chip just doesn’t have it in himself to do this right now. Not like this.

Chip isn’t a fan of lying, nor is he in the habit of doing so. But sometimes there aren’t any other options.

“I’m fine. Work’s just been a bit more draining than usual. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to come down here instead.”

Uncertainty is written all across Patty’s face, and Chip hates himself just a little. “All right. As long as you’re sure.”

“I am,” he promises, forcing himself to meet her eyes, gut twisting with the guilt of his deception. He reminds himself that he’s doing it to save her from unnecessary pain, but no matter his intentions, even he isn’t buying his own excuses any longer. “I’ll be upstairs soon.”

She gives him a small smile, but even in the semi-darkness of the room, Chip can see the sadness in her expression, and he wonders if maybe she already suspects... if maybe she knows.

~*~

Never having been one to believe in fate, Chip is beginning to wonder if he should think about reconsidering his stance on it, because surely this all must be happening to him for a reason. In the weeks following his brief middle-of-the-night discussion with Patty, Chip finds himself being pushed to the limits of his own self-control.

Jeff is, as usual, as hands-on as he’s ever been, but it’s almost as though he’s _purposely_ trying to get under Chip’s skin these days. The touches linger just a little longer, hands roaming around places he doesn’t usually explore in public (or anywhere, Chip reminds himself sternly, just to stay grounded), and whatever bit of personal space Chip once possessed while in Jeff’s company disappears almost entirely. It’s not as though he’s doing anything inappropriate. Instead, it’s as if everything is just heightened, made all the more obvious and pronounced. This is Jeff through and through though, a mixture of unintentional, uninhibited physical contact and purposeful teasing. As far as Chip has ever been able to tell, Jeff’s constant drive to touch others is a result of three main motivations: to tease, to show affection, and to flirt. The problem is that Chip never quite knows which reason to attribute to his behavior.

Currently, Jeff is pressed up again Chip’s back, arms wrapped around his waist. Usually, when things like this happen between the two of them – and they seem to with far more frequency than with anyone else – Jeff leaves some space between them, even if it’s just a sliver. But today... today that sentiment seems to have been thrown out the window entirely as Jeff literally slots their bodies together. They’re singing Songs of the City Planner, but he can barely concentrate as Jeff begins to gently rock his hips.

Chip knows he’s supposed to be singing, but for the first time in a very long time, his mind goes completely blank, too distracted by Jeff. He honestly wonders what the hell the audience must be thinking, what they’re seeing on stage between them. With what is probably a sense of moderate panic on his face, he pulls away and turns to stare helplessly at Jeff, silently begging for him to step in.

Thankfully, they’ve been working together for so long that Jeff takes the hint and takes over seamlessly until Chip can get his focus back under control. Thankfully, they manage to get to the end of the song without drawing any obvious attention to the little slip-up.

After the song, when Ryan and Greg begin talking again, Jeff leans in close and whispers, “Are you all right?”

Chip can only nod dumbly. “Yeah... Just lost my train of thought. I’m fine.”

He wonders, then, when he started to become a habitual liar.

~*~

The night that Chip finally makes the decision to leave is one of the most difficult nights of his entire life. But he knows that he can’t carry on like this – _they_ can’t keep carrying on like this – and it isn’t fair to Patty. He’s spent months hoping that something like this would never have to happen, but the reality is that it’s already gone on too long as it is, and Chip needs to figure out what the hell is going on with him before they can even think about piecing back together their marriage, _if_ they can.

Patty stands at the door, tears slipping down her beautiful face, and for a moment, Chip considers changing his mind, staying, trying to work this out. But these feelings have been festering for a good year now, possibly even longer, and Chip knows he’s well past due to sort things out, once and for all. Unfortunately for them both, it’s something that he needs to do on his own.

Chip grabs his suitcase from the foot of the stairs, casting a glance back at the bedroom doors of his children, his babies, and it’s all he can do to not break down into tears right then and there. But he’ll see them soon, in a week, after a couple of _Whose Live Anyway?_ shows. It’ll be almost like normal. Except for the fact that it won’t be at all. He’ll be staying in a hotel, or with his parents; he hasn’t quite sorted out the details yet.

He has to shake the thoughts from his mind, forcing himself to concentrate. If he starts getting bogged down in the details, Chip knows that he’ll never be able to leave this house, and in the long run, it won’t benefit anyone. He descends mechanically down the stairs, movement stilted and heart heavy until he reaches the entrance to his house. _His house_... he wonders if he’ll ever be able to call it that again.

Turning to face his wife, Chip feels sick with the knowledge that he’s put that look of numb devastation onto her usually smiling face, and he isn’t surprised to find that she’s avoiding eye contact with him. In fact, he’s amazed that she chose to see him off at all, though he is beyond grateful for the gesture.

For a few moments they stand opposite one another, neither apparently wanting this moment to happen _or_ end, until finally Chip forces his legs to move, stepping forward. It’ll only be harder, the longer they put it off. Leaning in, he wraps his arms around Patty, pulling her against him in a firm embrace. Much to his relief, she doesn’t shove him away like he half expects, but neither does she return the gesture, remaining still in his arms.

“I’m so sorry,“ he whispers into her ear, pressing a kiss to her tear-stained cheek as he pulls away. He’s more sorry than she could ever possibly know.

And before he can talk himself out of it, Chip grabs the door knob, twisting the handle and stepping out into the cool evening air, the answers he seeks spreading out somewhere before him.

~*~

Needless to say, the next day proves to be exceedingly difficult for Chip, and he wonders if maybe he should’ve waited to do this until he was finished with these next few shows. They’re due on stage in less than twenty minutes, and Chip can barely concentrate on the animated conversation going on between Ryan and Greg a few feet away, never mind the fact that he has a job to do very soon. Unfortunately, improv isn’t the type of profession where you can have an off day, at least not the type of off day Chip feels coming on.

He’s in the middle of staring at the design on the corner of the wooden table in their temporary green room, when the cushion he’s sitting on shifts under the weight of a second body, causing Chip to tilt slightly to the right.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jeff asks, brow furrowing in concern at what Chip assumes is a very somber expression on his face.

There is a very large part of him that wants to lie, to pretend that he’s perfectly fine and there’s nothing wrong at all. But Jeff is no idiot, and Chip knows damn well that he’s not going to be able to fool him. He’s never really been all that good at hiding his emotions anyway, especially from those who know him well, and Jeff definitely falls into that category.

“Honestly, I’ve been better,” Chip says, still staring at the table.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s... you know what? There isn’t time right now to talk about this.”

A supportive hand falls on his arm, and Chip forces himself to meet Jeff’s gaze. “Are you gonna be okay to go on stage? I don’t know if I’m talented enough to sing those songs alone.”

Forcing a smile, Chip nods. “Yeah, I think I’ll be fine.” 

“Oh, good. There’s a part of me that was hoping you wouldn’t want to get up there, though. Then I could finally show off my true comedic genius! But I guess I’ll just have to share the spotlight with you for one more show.”

Jeff leans into Chip’s shoulder so their bodies are practically pressed together from shoulder to hip, nothing but affection in the gesture. It’s almost ironic, Chip muses to himself, how Jeff can simultaneously be the source of and temporary solution to his current anguish.

With a sigh, he tries to muster up the energy to feel positive. When a knock at the door signifies that they’re ready to start the show, Chip pushes up off the couch and steels himself to try and have a good show. Maybe this is the exact distraction he needs.

~*~

After the show, once autographs have been signed and fans have had their pictures taken with them, discussion begins, as it usually does, around going out for drinks. Chip politely declines, feeling about ready to go back to his room and either drown himself in his sorrows privately, or collapse in a sobbing mess. Neither feels particularly appealing, but he’s positive at least one of the two is imminent. He isn’t entirely surprised, however, when Jeff indicates that he’s going to call it an early night as well. Greg and Ryan glance back and forth between the two of them curiously, but after a few moments, they head off to find Bob and the closest bartender.

Chip turns on his heel then, heading straight for the elevators that will take them up to their hotel room. Jeff follows after him, keeping pace, but remaining half a step behind him at all times. While they both know that Jeff is trailing after him for a specific reason, neither feels the need to speak for quite some time.

“Hey, you did well tonight,” Jeff says, eventually, well after the elevator doors have slid closed and they’re on their way up.

“Not really,” Chip says, tossing Jeff a sidelong glance. “But thanks for lying to me anyway.”

“Hey, I’m not lying.” Jeff holds up both hands, palms facing forward. “Considering how distracted you seemed before the show, I think you held your own up there quite well.”

Chip snorts, but he doesn’t fight Jeff on it. If he wants to convince himself that Chip didn’t have an off night, then that’s his prerogative. When the elevator doors open again, Chip heads determinedly in the direction of his room, only vaguely aware of being tailed once more.

“So, what are you going to do this evening?” Jeff asks conversationally, despite the fact that they both know something’s wrong.

With a shrug, Chip plays for casual as he fishes through his pockets for the room key. “I’m tired, so I think I’m probably going to go to sleep early tonight.”

“Mmm, right. Yeah, me too.”

Where did his put that stupid key? “I can’t find my damn room key,” Chip states, whipping out his wallet and thumbing through it with urgency.

“Did you put it in your back pocket, maybe?“ Jeff suggests. Chip barely hears him.

He can’t find it anywhere. “I had it before the show started. Where the hell would I have put the stupid thing?”

“It’s okay. I’m sure they can get you a replacement key at the front desk.”

“No, but they shouldn’t _have_ to. I had it before we did the show. Why didn’t I put it someplace where I’d be able to find it?”

“Buddy, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Chip pulls out everything in his two front jean pockets, hoping against hope that the key is there. He has all his stuff in his room, and he can’t afford to lose any of it. “Fuck this,” he groans in frustration.

“Chip?” Jeff says, voice soft.

Receipts, credit cards, even his crumpled up boarding pass, but no room key. As if he needs to deal with this right now. Plus, if he lost it, someone else could’ve picked it up. Who knows who could potentially have access to his room right now?

“ _Chip_ ,” Jeff says again, more sternly this time, reaching out to grab onto both of his arms. Chip nearly jumps back at the contact, but it certainly grabs his attention, and his face begins to heat almost instantly. All the same, he feels himself calming merely through the simple warmth of Jeff’s fingers, and he reminds himself that this isn’t as serious as he’s making it out to be. “Calm down, okay? I’m sure it’s somewhere. For now, why don’t you just hang out with me in my room? I was gonna order some fancy beer just for the hell of it It’d be much more fun with someone else around.”

They both know that Jeff’s reasons for inviting Chip over have nothing to do with alcohol, and everything to do with his erratic behavior, especially given his earlier claim of calling it a night, but he can’t seem to resist the pull to join Jeff anyway. If it means he doesn’t have to be alone with his thoughts, Chip is all for it. He could use a good distraction right about now.

Halfway through his second beer, Jeff finally broaches the subject.

“So, look, you don’t have to tell me anything, but whatever it is that’s going on for you right now... you’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do, right?”

Chip smiles at the kindness of the gesture and marvels at the irony of Jeff’s offer. “Yeah, I will,” he says.

“I’m serious, though,” Jeff continues, pointing a finger in his direction. “If there’s anything I can do, just say the words and I’m there.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll let you know if I can think of anything,” Chip says with a nod.

Silence falls between them then, while Chip internally debates on whether or not to tell Jeff the truth. Or, the part of it he can say right now, because sooner or later they’re going to find out that Chip’s separated from his wife anyway. He doesn’t have a fucking clue what to do now that he’s taken that first step to figuring this whole thing out, but he hopes and prays that the answer will arrive sooner rather than later. He doesn’t want all of this pain to have been for nothing.

Chip takes a large swig of his beer, mindful of the fact that he still needs to keep his wits about him, lest he reveal the entire truth accidentally. He allows his eyes to slip shut, and makes a decision. “I left Patty last night. We’re... we’re going through a trial separation.”

There is a sharp intake of breath, and then, “Fuck. Chip, I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“What… what happened? If, uh, if you don’t mind me asking.”

In truth, he doesn’t feel like delving into the nitty gritty details, but now that they’re on the subject, it seems pointless to try and backtrack. Besides, it’s something that Jeff is going to need to know sooner or later, so they might as well just get this out of the way now. At least it might help give Chip a sense of how Jeff is going to react to the whole thing.

“It isn’t Patty’s fault, it’s mine. Well, no, it’s not exactly mine. I mean, it is, but I didn’t actually _do_ anything. Except that I guess I did, but not so much in the doing sense as just the thinking sense. I mean, there’s definitely been times where I’ve _wanted_ to do something, but I never would, at least not in that way—“

Jeff eventually stops his ramble with a hand to his shoulder. “Hey, Chip, you haven’t had that much to drink. You’re not making any sense. What did you do? Or what do you think you did?”

Chip swallows, forcing himself to meet Jeff’s gaze. “I think, um... I think that I might have feelings for someone else. I tried to move past them, but I couldn’t. And I just... it wasn’t fair to do that to Patty, you know? So I had— well, I think I had to leave to sort it all out.”

Jeff stares at him for a moment, clearly surprised by the news, before breaking eye contact and schooling his features. But for those few seconds, his thoughts are written plain as day across his face, and there is no hiding the fact that he’s upset by Chip’s words, maybe even disappointed. Chip feels his heart sinking just a little, though he knows he only has himself to blame. No matter how close they are, or how supportive Jeff may be, this is still an awful situation, and he knows how bad it comes across.

“Oh, okay. That’s not so terrible, Chip,” Jeff says eventually, voice displaying an optimism that isn’t entirely convincing. “So, who is she? Where did you meet her?”

“It’s, uh... it’s not a woman,” Chip forces out before he has time to change his mind.

“Not a woman? Then that means it’s a... it’s a... _Oh_. I didn’t realize that you were interested in—“ He waves a hand around before pointing down in the general direction of his crotch. “Men.”

Chip reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, knowing his face must be beet red by now. “I didn’t either, actually.” He laughs awkwardly. It sounds forced.

“All right. Well, um, do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Chip says, even though he actually sort of does. Just... not now. Not here.

“How long have you had these feelings for?” Jeff asks softly, and he’s clearly either ignoring what Chip’s just said, or he suffers from selective hearing loss, though Chip would put money on the former.

“Jeff.”

“Do I know him?”

“Did you seriously not hear what I said less than thirty seconds ago?”

“I heard you. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to sort through it all.”

“And you think I’m not?” Chip asks, a sigh slipping out in spite of his best efforts to hold it in.

“All right, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.” Jeff holds up both of his hands in surrender, an apologetic smile on his lips. “Look, I’m sorry for all of this. I can’t imagine how confusing it must be for you right now. Is there anything I can do?”

Chip considers the question for a moment, staring down into his beer bottle as though it will offer up some sort of wisdom. “Honestly? You’re already doing it,” he says, at length. “Can we just see what’s on ESPN?”

“Of course,” Jeff says, reaching for the remote and flicking the TV on.

That night Chip ends up falling asleep on the couch in Jeff’s hotel room.

~*~

“So, who is it?”

Chip blinks, looking up from his cup of coffee. “Who is who?”

“The person,” Jeff says, eyebrows rising on his forehead. “The one that you’re— Well, you know.”

 _In love with?_ Chip supplies mentally. But all he says is, “Oh.”

“I know I have no right to ask, but I thought... well, I sort of thought that you might have told me already by now. You said that it’s someone I know... maybe there’s something I can do to help?”

“Jeff—“ Chip starts, voice already holding a wary quality.

“No, I know. Look, I know, I do.” He holds up both hands in surrender, expression serious. “But you’ve just seemed so unhappy these past couple of weeks, which leads me to assume that you haven’t talked to him yet, otherwise you probably wouldn’t look so down.”

He glances down at the table. There is a long knick in the wood, spanning almost half the table, and without thinking, Chip starts running his thumb along the ridge, tracing the pattern absently.

“No, I haven’t talked to him yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have no idea how he feels about me. Or how he’d feel about this whole situation. It’s fucking insanity, Jeff. What kind of person walks away from a twenty year marriage because they think they might be attracted to men?”

“Yeah, but you can’t ignore who you are, either. If you need to explore this, then do it. It’s not fair to Patty to stay with her when you’re having these kinds of thoughts, right?”

“I suppose.”

When Chip meets Jeff’s gaze, he smiles encouragingly, and Chip feels his heart ache. He wants more than anything to tell Jeff the truth, but he’s terrified of what it could mean. He’s already lost his wife; the last thing Chip wants to do is lose one of his best friends too.

“I don’t want to screw everything up. He’s… he’s a close friend. Maybe he doesn’t feel the same way. Or maybe he’ll be horrified by my feelings for him and never want to talk to me again. It’s just... it’s risky.”

“Of course it is. But you need to stop assuming the worst. That’s not like you at all.”

Chip feels a hand cover his own, and when he flicks his eyes over towards Jeff, something flutters in his stomach. Jeff stares earnestly at him, eyes warm, but serious. There is something familiar, yet unidentifiable, in his gaze, and as they continue to stare at each other, Chip feels his face heat with embarrassment.

“Maybe this friend has feelings for you too. Have you ever stopped to consider that?” Jeff asks, eyes boring into Chip like he can see into his soul, as if he knows everything.

“I... I don’t... I’m not sure,” Chip eventually manages to force out, so completely flustered that he’s not even able to put together coherent words.

“All I’m suggesting is that you think about it,” Jeff says, removing his hand from Chip’s and returning to his breakfast as if this conversation hadn’t happened at all.

~*~

Chip can’t sleep, mind twisting and turning, refusing to release its grip on him. It’s been like this for nearly three weeks now, ever since he left Patty. Usually Chip goes for a couple nights without sleeping, surviving on coffee and soda pop during the days until finally he just collapses from exhaustion. Tonight he is beyond tired, but try as he might, Chip just can’t seem to put his mind at ease about anything.

Glancing over at the clock on the hotel night stand, it reads 2:53 am in bright red writing, and Chip groans.

He fumbles blindly in the dark, reaching for his iPhone, nearly knocking over the clock and a book he’d left there before his fingers finally curl around the cell. Without really thinking about what he’s doing, he starts to write a quick text to Jeff: _are you awake?_

Chip knows it’s quite late, but Jeff is known to stay up until all hours of the night sometimes, and Chip can’t bear the thought of spending another night lost in his thoughts. At least if Jeff is up, he might be able to provide some form of entertainment or distraction. Before his brain fully registers how terrible an idea this probably is, he hits the _send_ button.

It feels like an hour before the response finally arrives: _I wasn’t, but I am now._

Chip cringes just a bit. _sorry, man. didn’t mean to wake you. never mind._

A few moments pass, and then his phone beeps again. _Nah, it’s fine. What’s up?_

He sends the following back: _can’t sleep. it’s driving me crazy. but i shouldn’t have woken you up._

When the response comes this time, Chip has to read it over three times before he’s sure he isn’t seeing things. _Okay, come on over then._

He blinks, then quickly thumbs a response into the keypad of his phone. _i can’t now. it’s the middle of the night._

Jeff’s response, when it arrives, makes Chip smile in spite of himself. _Chip, stop it. We’re both awake now. Might as well be awake together. Maybe I can help._

Throwing back the covers, Chip sits up and flicks on the bedside lamp, rubbing his eyes at the sudden onslaught of light in the dark room. He sends a quick reply to Jeff, then rummages around for a t-shirt.

Thankfully, Jeff is only a few doors down. Taking a deep breath just outside his room, Chip reaches up and knocks lightly on the door. He feels like an idiot, standing in the middle of the hotel hallway, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and sweat pants and probably looking like death warmed over, but it’s too late to back out now.

Just when Chip’s starting to think that he didn’t hear the first knock, the door opens to reveal a half-awake Jeff, hair tousled and eyes squinting against the bright hallway lights.

“Hey,” he says sleepily, pulling on the door and stepping out of the way.

Laughing softly, Chip cards a hand through his hair and follows Jeff from the entrance to the bed. “Uh, hi. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

Jeff shrugs and climbs back into the bed. “Like I say, it’s not a big deal. When you’re as gorgeous as me, who needs beauty rest?”

“Ha! You keep telling yourself that.”

“Thanks, I will,” Jeff says with a smirk. Pulling back the covers on the other side of the bed, he gestures to the empty spot beside him. “Well, are you going to get in?”

Chip blinks, suddenly feeling nervous. Even in this half-awake state, he knows that this probably isn’t a very good idea. “What, Jeff? No. That’s your bed.”

“I know. But what other options do you have?”

Glancing around the room, Chip eventually points a finger at the couch. “I could just sit there,” he suggests.

“Yeah, trust me, you don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s as uncomfortable as fuck, if you’ll pardon my language. I was sitting on that trying to watch TV earlier and I ended up deciding the floor was a better option. It seriously feels like you’re sitting on rocks.”

Chip frowns. “I could stand then. That’s fine. Or, better yet, I’ll just sit on the floor or something.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“I’m not,” Chip insists stubbornly. “Do you seriously expect me to just crawl into bed with you?”

“Yes. What are you, a teenage boy afraid of getting cooties or something?” Jeff laughs, waving a dismissive hand in Chip’s direction. “It’s big enough for two. And I don’t bite. Unless you want me to, of course,” he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Chip laughs and rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop the way his stomach flips pleasantly at the words.

Jeff continues on. “We can just as easily talk here, and it’ll be a hell of a lot more comfortable. Clearly what you were doing before wasn’t working, so if you’re going to lie awake for the rest of the night, you might as well do so here. And if you do happen to fall asleep, you do _not_ want it to be on that couch or the floor. You’ll be sore for a week, trust me.”

It doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense, but the way Jeff is looking at him makes Chip want to throw reason to the wind, in spite of the voice at the back of his head reminding him just how incredibly risky this whole thing is.

“Come on, Chip. Just get in. Seriously. We’re both adults, and this bed is huge. I don’t want to spend all night arguing about it.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Chip sluggishly makes his way over to the bed with an obvious measure of reluctance. “Fine, I’m coming. Are you happy now?”

“Very,” Jeff says, beaming at him sleepily, which only serves to make him look even more endearing than usual.

Chip climbs into the bed with care, the cool sheets against his feet a relief from the general warmth he feels, both from the hour and from his proximity to Jeff. Even though the bed is large, both he and Jeff are quite tall, and there’s less room between them than he would like. A lot less room, in fact. He settles back against the pillow, keeping as close to the edge of the bed as he can without actually falling off.

“You settled?” Jeff asks after a moment.

Tilting his head to the side to glance over at Jeff, Chip nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

Jeff turns away from him then and shuts off the light. The sudden darkness is as much an adjustment as the bright light was a few minutes earlier, but at least Jeff can no longer see his expression. Chip feels the bed shift as Jeff moves down, back into a prone position, and it’s both a familiar and foreign sensation at the same time.

“So, what’s going on?” Jeff asks eventually, words floating through the darkness.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Well, I know that, you big idiot. But why?”

Chip huffs in mock annoyance at Jeff’s insult before stopping to seriously consider the question. “I guess I just can’t get my brain to shut up. It never seems to stop.”

Jeff lays there quietly for several moments, the only audible thing in the room the sound of his steady breathing. “What are you thinking about?”

“Everything. I don’t even know who I am any more. I thought I had everything figured out, that my life was fairly straightforward and logical, that it made sense. I had my wife, my kids, a nice home, a great job...” Chip’s lips pull down into a frown, brows furrowing, and he finds himself sighing. “Then I go ahead and fall for someone else when I have _no_ idea how he feels about me. I’ve left my wife and kids and home, I can’t sleep, and I’m just so fucking _confused_. Who am I, Jeff? I honestly don’t even know these days, and it’s all I can think about.”

The bed dips as Jeff shifts, rolling onto his side to face Chip. Turning his head slightly, Chip catches Jeff staring at him, a matching frown on his face, visible even in the darkness.

“Chip...” he says.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t expect you to solve this for me. I just— I need to know that I made the right decision. And more importantly, I just need this to make sense.”

A silence falls over the room for a few seconds, heavy with so many unspoken words that Chip has kept to himself for far too long. He expects Jeff to say something, maybe even to make a joke, but what he doesn’t expect is the hand that suddenly lands on his stomach.

“Whoa,” Chip says, jerking instinctively at the touch. “What are you doing?”

Immediately Jeff pulls his hand away. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just trying to show you some sympathy.”

Chips eyebrows shoot up his forehead, despite the fact that Jeff probably can’t see. “By touching me while we’re sharing a bed?” The second the words leave his mouth, Chip can feel himself cringing at the terrible phrasing. As if he isn’t already wound up enough as it is, this certainly isn’t helping.

“I meant to touch your arm, but I guess I overshot and hit your stomach. Wait... it _was_ your stomach, right?”

“Yes!”

And then, just as suddenly, they both start laughing.

“Yeah, this whole thing fucking sucks, man,” Jeff says, when the laughter subsides. “I’m sorry. And fine, so maybe it’s the time of night or the fact that I’m half asleep or possibly the alcohol from earlier is still in my system, but look... At the risk of turning this into a teenage girl’s slumber party—“ Jeff chuckles to himself, and some of Chip’s anxiety melts away “—I don’t know that anything has changed with you. Not _really_. You’ve always been a great husband and father, in addition to being a great friend. You’re still that hilariously brilliant idiot I met over a decade ago. And your genuine goodness makes me sick sometimes.” Here he laughs again. “I mean, fuck it, Chip. I know things suck right now, but you’ll figure this out. You’re still the same person you’ve always been. So, maybe you’re attracted to dudes now too. It doesn’t change who you essentially are.”

Chip stares up at the ceiling that he can’t see but knows is still there, and wonders if maybe it’s like a metaphor for his life right now. What’s ahead of him is something he can’t see just yet, but deep down he knows that it’s safe, and that he’ll be all right. Maybe it’s the true definition of faith.

As he processes Jeff’s words, Chip wonders if maybe he’s right. Yes, things are a mess right now, but that doesn’t mean that it’ll always be this way. “Yeah... Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“You know, the only real difference I’ve noticed is this fear you suddenly have. What’s going on with that? None of this sounds like the Chip I know.”

“I don’t know. I guess—“ Chip swallows, ignoring how he can feel the heat radiating from Jeff’s body on his own skin. “I guess I’m afraid to screw this up too. Or maybe because by admitting my feelings out loud means that I’m finally making it real.”

“This guy,” Jeff says slowly, reaching over and placing his hand back on Chip’s stomach, over top of his t-shirt. “What if you knew he was attracted to you too? Like, what if you knew with absolute certainty that he was interested? Would that change things?”

Something shifts in the atmosphere in that moment, the air heavy with an unacknowledged tension. There is a different sort of energy sizzling between them, only further enhanced by their proximity, and the intimacy of Jeff’s touch. Chip has to concentrate on breathing, even as his brain finally accepts that neither one of them are talking about a hypothetical scenario any longer. Perhaps they never were, and he was too afraid to notice.

Chip is nearly positive that he knows what’s going on here, knows that they’re on the cusp of something incredibly significant, but he has to test the waters one last time, just to be absolutely and unequivocally certain. “How could I possibly know for sure, without him actually saying so directly to my face?”

And then, Jeff slips his hand beneath Chip’s t-shirt, fingers ghosting low across his stomach, and Chip nearly gasps out loud. Jeff’s fingers are like fire against his skin, and even this touch sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin.

“Maybe,” Jeff whispers, voice low and raspy against his ear, “Maybe he can show you in other ways. Through his eyes, his smiles, his actions... his touch.”

Chip squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to keep breathing properly, to maintain composure. It’s almost become instinct now, the way his brain automatically kicks in to try and force his body to ignore the sensations it’s experiencing. There is no longer any doubt, however, that whatever Jeff is doing, it is with purpose and intent, as his hand slowly moves up Chip’s stomach to his chest, exploring each ridge expanse of skin with a gentle touch.

When he brushes his thumb against a nipple, however, Chip _does_ gasp, his whole body jerking in response. Jeff pulls his thumb away from Chip’s nipple, but doesn’t remove his hand from its position on his chest.

“Do you want me to stop?” Jeff whispers into Chip’s ear, breath hot against his skin. A shiver shoots down Chip’s spine involuntarily, and he shudders.

Chip swallows thickly. His mouth feels dry as the weight of their current situation begins to finally sink in. He might come to regret this decision in the morning, but right now, despite all of his fears and worries, Chip knows there’s only one answer he can give.

“No,” he says, quiet but confident. “Don’t stop.”

Jeff shuffles closer, pressing fully into Chip’s side now as his fingers resume their exploration of his chest. In this position, Chip can already feel the bulge from Jeff’s cock pressing into him, and he’s relieved that Jeff is as affected by him as he is by Jeff. Nuzzling into Chip’s neck, Jeff starts to trail kisses across his jawline and down his neck, barely more than the gentle press of lips when he begins but becoming more emboldened with each noise that Chip makes in response. The light smattering of stubble across Jeff’s cheeks tickles where it touches, and Chip bites his lip to keep himself from giggling.

“Jeff,” Chip groans out when he moves up to nip at Chip’s earlobe, and both hands fly up to capture Jeff’s face in his hands.

Pulling back, Jeff stares into Chip’s eyes, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks again, thumb still idly brushing against Chip’s sensitive nipple.

This time, there is no hesitation. “No,” he says, firm and strong, then pulls Jeff’s face down until their mouths finally meet.

Jeff’s lips are soft and warm against Chip’s mouth, moving with ease and confidence. He starts off gently, allowing Chip to control the intensity of the kiss, thumb trailing lazy circles around his nipples. The combined sensations are driving him wild, and he instinctively arches up into the touch. Chip’s hands move to fist lightly in Jeff’s hair, adjusting the angle of the kiss, and when Jeff’s tongue darts out to flick at his bottom lip, Chip eagerly opens his mouth to the intrusion.

Kissing Jeff feels both natural and completely foreign in equal measure. He is insistent and demanding, yet yielding and gentle in a sort of beautiful contradiction, and Chip wants more of him, wants more of his mouth and his tongue and his hands. Jeff’s tongue is doing wicked things to his mouth, and Chip wonders what other good use he could put to that glorious muscle. The thought alone causes him to moan, and he reaches with one arm to wrap around Jeff’s back, pulling them even closer. When their cocks brush against one another for the first time, Chip actually gasps in shock as pleasure shoots through him.

“Fuck,” he groans out.

“You like that?” Jeff asks against his mouth, pressing his hips against Chip’s once more.

Suddenly, without warning, Jeff rolls them over so that Chip is lying on top of him. With hands on Chip’s thighs, he guides him until their cocks are nearly perfectly aligned. Quite instinctively, Chip grinds down into Jeff, eliciting a low moan from him.

“Fuck, Chip, yes,” Jeff groans, arching his own hips to meet Chip’s thrusts. Both of Jeff’s hands find their way to his hips, fingers digging gently into the bones there. They start to move their hips, grinding against one another with purpose now. Even with the layers of clothes between them, every movement sends pleasure shooting down his spine and Chip moans loudly before Jeff is kissing him again. Any semblance of his earlier caution is completely gone now as Jeff plunges his tongue into Chip’s mouth with reckless abandon.

Chip still doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing, but Jeff’s hands provide a firm guide, even as their pace becomes more erratic, more frantic. The feeling of Jeff’s cock pressing into him is incredible, and Chip knows that he’s not going to last much longer. One of Jeff’s hands slips to his backside, cupping his ass, and Chip smiles into their kiss. He’s always secretly suspected that Jeff wanted to touch his ass, and now he knows it’s true. Chip is having a hard time breathing now, his thrusts a little less coordinated and a little more desperate.

All of a sudden, Jeff is moaning loudly into Chip’s mouth as he comes, hips practically slamming into him now, and a moment later, Chip follows him over the edge, his orgasm nearly blinding in its intensity. They continue to grind into one another, seeking to draw out every last bit of pleasure until it almost begins to hurt. When Jeff presses at his hip with some urgency, Chip takes the hint and tries to roll off of him. He is only partially successful as his upper body collapses against Jeff’s chest. Neither move for several minutes, the sound of their labored breathing echoing in the room.

Eventually, one of Jeff’s hands starts to rub small circles into Chip’s lower back. The touch is both comforting and reassuring. “Hey, are you okay?” Jeff asks eventually. “You’re being awfully quiet.”

“Mmm, yeah,” Chip replies, the side of his face still pressed soundly against Jeff’s chest.

“Are you sure?” There is a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

Chip tilts his head up, trying to glance at Jeff. “Of course. After what we just did, how can you ask that?”

“Because you’ve never done anything like this before, and I know you’ve been... scared. Of this, and what it all means...”

“I may have been scared,” Chip agrees, “but don’t take my silence to mean I regretted any of it, because I didn’t.”

“All right. Well, I’m glad, because I didn’t either. I’ve wanted to... well, I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time now. With, uh, you, even though I knew I couldn’t.” He pauses, sucking in deep breath, then adds, “But we can talk about this later. Tomorrow. Or whenever you’re ready.”

Chip nods his head, or at least tries. He can definitely agree with that sentiment. “Yeah, all right. Tomorrow.”

“So look, before I shut up I wanted to say that I know this isn’t going to be easy, but uh, I’m here. In whatever capacity you need me to be, whatever you want or need me to do. Just so you know.”

Chip smiles, touched by the sincerity he hears in Jeff’s voice. It’s true that this won’t be easy for him – for either of them, in truth – but for the first time in over a year, Chip doesn’t feel so confused any longer. Regardless of what happens in the morning, he now feels like maybe there is clarity in sight, finally, and that fills him with relief.

“Thanks, Jeff. That means a lot to me,” Chip says. Pushing off of Jeff, he leans down and plants a kiss on his mouth before settling down in the bed beside him. “We should probably get to sleep now, though,” he adds.

“Yeah. Right. Good night.”

“Night.”

Amazingly, Chip feels himself slowly start to drift off, his breathing slowing and his mind clearing. That is, until, Jeff suddenly says his name. 

“Chip?” It sounds loud in the quiet of the room.

He blinks against the oncoming sleep. “Hmm?”

“Do you like cuddling?”

Chip snorts in amusement, feeling almost giddy from exhaustion and post-coital bliss. “I should’ve known that you’d be a big softy underneath it all.”

When there’s no reply from Jeff, Chip forces his eyes open. “Oh, were you actually serious?”

“Not really, but I guess that depends on what your answer would be,” he admits, quirking a smile.

Reaching out, Chip wraps an arm around Jeff’s back, pulling him in as close as they can get, feet and legs tangling up in the process, as they try to get comfortable. “Then my answer is yes,” he says, and kisses Jeff softly.

Within a few minutes, Chip finally starts to feel himself drifting off again, soothed by Jeff’s touch instead of feeling overwhelmed by it, and for the first time in a very long time, he feels hopeful again.


End file.
